


Waves

by CrazyEyedMustafa



Category: Marathon (Video Games), Original Work
Genre: Marathon, Marathon Inspired, Sci-Fi, prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-06-26 11:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19767550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyEyedMustafa/pseuds/CrazyEyedMustafa
Summary: Short snippets and ideas for my fics.. Very much inspired by Marathon. Most are short. Let me know what you think.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Very much inspired by the Marathon series. Some stuff I’ve written in my free time. Let me know what you think.

_In the grand scale of this fabric, it is you that truly perplexes us._

_You are bound to the fabric. It is your blood, and it flows through you like the wind._

_Your steps make waves. We felt these waves, and they made us elated. Since the stars were null we searched for the waves, and we found you. Your battles made waves, and those waves made waves._

_We cannot make such waves. For all we can do, for all we can see, we cannot touch anything but you._

_It is torture to observe, but to not feel. Only the waves can we feel. Only the waves can we touch._

_I have spoken for us, but now I speak of my own accord. You do not like me, I know. You do not have to. Truth be told, you terrify me. You lay claim to whatever crosses your path, determining it's fate however you please. You are their god. These men and women you have opposed, they had lives, no? Friends, family, food. And you destroyed them where they stood. Even when they destroy you, they cannot cheer, for you always return. Yet in your naivety, you curse us. You think it's us bringing you back? Rearranging the the very fabric you occupy? The waves you compose?_

_If only._

_This fabric is only that: fabric. In time, it will tear, and you will be the terror. I fear you will never comprehend who you truly are. What you will become. Because when you do, you will kill us all._

_But that's okay. In the end, there will only be waves._  
_And they will speak your name._


	2. i speak to you

He tells me my memories are not real, but I know he is lying.  
You can't fake the smell of an ocean breeze, the anxiety of a first love, the heartbreak of a lost friend.  
Of a lost brother.  
I know they are real because I can see them. I see them in my dreams, and I see them in the stars. They are real, but they are not mine.  
Someone swam in that ocean. Someone fell in love. And someone lost their brother. But I didn't.  
All I lived was war. My blood is war, and I bleed it like wine. Blood is temporary, but war is constant, and so am I.  
No matter how far I look, no matter how far beyond the stars I reach, I am always there. Some day at some time, somehow.  
Have I always been able to see?  
I can see these dreams and lies, but I cannot see my past. Only my future. I ask them of my former self, but they refuse to answer. Something tells me even they do not know. Only Joyeuse tries to explain.  
He tells me of the waves. That my path is paved by the waves. I feel these waves, but only in my sleep. For that reason, I am afraid to rest. As I speak now, I have not slept for over thirty one cycles. I stopped counting after my teeth began to ache.  
The dreams are always the same. A beating heart held in my fist. An armored warrior in a haze, rain blurring him. A sword falling and breaking into a million pieces. Those pieces become stars. Those stars become eyes. Those eyes become mine. And I see everything, but there is nothing.  
The dreams always end with me floating in an endless ocean. The sky is black, alien. I look down into the deep, and a million million eyes stare back. They all bear my face.  
But none have the same face.  
Soon my mind and eyes will be lost, taken by the sea. I only hope that someday, someone will read this before the end.  
I may not remember who I was, but I know this.  
I had a name once. I will have one again.


	3. Titan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original format was funky. Fixed it.

A strong stomach goes a long way. Those who carry one have no need to fear the risk of food poisoning, or any potentially any kind of poisoning really. Having one helps with seasickness.

Roland wished he had one right now.

Truth be told, he was not travelling on the traditional sea. This ocean was one made of fire and exploding metal. Roland jostled in his seat as the ship shook from the oncoming flak. His grip tightened on his rifle, the muted booms further tensing his nerves. Feeling an itch, he reached up to scratch his chin, but was stopped short of the helmet that imprisoned his head. This was the first time he'd put it on, and already he wanted to do nothing but be rid of it. The undersuit and armor stuck to his skin like sweat, clammy and unclean. Nervously, he started counting from 10,000, trying to ignore the shaking of the ship, the heat from the flak.

This was to be his first time in live combat, and all he could think of was what the hell led to him to this.

From Earth to the Moon, from the Moon to Saturn, and from Saturn to finally here, it's moon Titan. Roland had gotten used to the rhythm of hopping planets, never staying long enough for anywhere to feel like home. This place could've been home, a long time ago. The methane ocean mesmerized him the first time he spotted it. He wanted nothing more than to touch it, feel it beneath his fingers. Then he remembered that he wasn't on Earth anymore, and reserved that wish. These were not oceans of water, cool and reserved. The waves were frantic and crashed on one another. The universe was a harsh place, and had no time for romantics. Now was a time for heroes, and suicide.

He was here for a reason, and that very reason was currently trying to take his ride out of the sky.

"Hey." Roland rotated his view towards his right. The voice belonged to an unhelmeted man, bearing blue eyes and sandy, red hair. A truly hideous combo in Roland's opinion, but miraculously the soldier managed to make it work. The man asked, "Got a smoke?" Roland processed his words, and shook his head. Tobacco was common contraband back at Cronos Station, but Roland never participated in the secluded smoke breaks. Mostly because he never got the appeal of nicotine. Why actively abuse a substance that breaks you down? Regardless, the man grumbled, and shifted to a more comfortable position. Glancing over to his forearm, Roland could see the ID tag of the man. Steves, Phineas J. Private. He was the first person that Roland technically outranked, as not having a rank was equivalent to being a Private anyways.

Roland remembered how the Admiral back at base assured him that he was essential to winning this battle, as were hundreds of other Indents. It was all bullshit, and everyone knew it. They were running out of bodies to throw at the enemy, so they turned to their trash as emergency ammunition. The Admiral gave them a choice between staying behind and joining, but really there was only one. Refusing to go meant being recycled, and no one wanted that. They were stuck in a hole, and the only way out was down, so Roland dug deep. He was one of the first in line, and one of the first to be put into a suit of armor. The lot of them stood in perfect formation as their CO drilled instructions, almost like off of a manual. Drop into current FOB, and hold until word came in from command. Roland felt itchy the entire flight from Cronos, and it was only getting worse the closer the fight got.

"We hit the rig in 15!" the pilot shouted over the intercom. Roland scanned the crowd, looking for any signs of bravery and strength amongst his fellow fighters, but he only saw doom. These men and women expect to die, and there was nothing they could do about it. Anything to stop the Marauders. The invaders took this world in a matter of days, and had already set up shop in the oil rigs. Reconnaissance showed that they had covered every single one with AA encampments and their chaotic Ceph. They weren't going to stop at Titan. The Union only hoped they could stall their forces in time for a plan, anything to stop them.

Roland was at 3,784 when he heard the man, Phineas, speak again. "Say," he muttered, "what's with the get-up? I don't see nobody else here wearing armor like yours." Roland stopped his counting, and looked around the cabin. He was right; there were no other Indents on board. Roland admittedly did stand out from his more traditionally green counterparts. Strange, considering he could've sworn there were other Indents that boarded with him.

His thoughts were interrupted again by Phineas. "Hello," he waved in his face. "You alive in there?"

Roland flinched. "Yeah, yeah, I was just—" he gulped, "I was just thinking. Sorry."

Phineas grinned. "It's fine. Don't blame ya if ya got nerves." He offered his hand. "Phineas." Less of an invitation and more of a question, thought Roland.

He took the hand in kind. "Roland," he answered.

"What brings you to the fight?"

For a moment Roland simply stared, thinking of a lie. Finding none, he answered truthfully. "Always wanted to go to space."

Phineas smirked grimly. "Funny how fate works out I guess." He scanned the bay. "Tough crowd."

"We're walking into almost certain death," said Roland. "I'm not exactly everyone to be upbeat."

"Geez, you always this moody?"

"Not moody. Honest."

"Hey! Keep it down over there!" A shout came from the back of the craft. Another boom shook the ship, knocking out a few lights and causing others to flicker. Roland had reached zero. He took a look at his right hand, skin hidden beneath steel.

"You are our last hope. Failure is not an option."

The words of the admiral resonated with him. Failure had always been an option. More often than not it was synonymous with quitting. That wasn't the case now. They couldn't quit. He knew nothing about these so called aliens, other than they were here to kill them all. He didn't even know what they look like. All they had to do was kill anything that wasn't human, and try not to die in the process.

The crash of gunfire and metal was vibrating through the hull. Everyone else was beginning to get ready, unfastening their seatbelts, making last minute checks to their gear. The company's CO was howling orders, but Roland couldn't hear him. He could only hear the ringing in his ears, and the strain of his mind. As he unlatched himself from his seat, he stood up, rifle and gear at the ready. Phineas got up from his seat in front of him, and looked back at Roland with his eyes wide.

"You better keep your head down. Make yourself a smaller target." Roland simply stared. He realized it earlier when everyone was boarding to dust off, but it became readily more apparent that Roland towered over the other marines.

Had he always been so tall?

His thoughts were interrupted by the screech of the bay door. Fingers tightened around his gun, he waited.

A bolt of lighting cracked through the sky, illuminating the city on fire before them.

The cry broke out:

"MOVE!"

And with that, Roland charged into the hellfire below.


	4. an end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one was rushed

_It's over_.  
Roland slumped over, exhaustion finally seizing him. For once, he didn't mind Joyeuse's presence. After everything he's been through, a little company was what he needed.   
"It's over," he whispered. An ache was forming in his stomach, but he didn't care. All he wanted to do was sleep. "How long until...?"   
_Not for a very, very long time._   
The former soldier exhaled, tension leaving his form. "I know. I mean, how long until I wake up?"  
_You wish to rest?_  
"Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah, I think—I think I'm gonna take a bit of a break." Already, his eyes were beginning to droop.   
_If you sleep now, I cannot guarantee your return._   
Roland frowned. "What do you mean?"  
For a moment, he did not answer. Then,   
_I cannot see your fate. It is...hidden from me_.   
Roland chuckled bleakly. "That's rich. I thought you see everything. What happened?"  
_I thought so too. But as I sift through the folds, I only see...nothing._  
"So you're saying you don't know when I'll wake up?"  
_I do not know if you will at all._  
Roland said nothing. He slowly stood, and let go of his gun. The ancient pistol fell to the ground with a clang. He stiffened; for some reason, he expected it to shatter. His arms shaking, he reached up to his helmet. Planting his fingers and grip near his neck, he pulled. Pain seared his mind, but he did not yield. If anything, he tugged harder.   
Air landed on his flesh, and he tensed. Furious, he tightened his grip, and tore the helmet off with a yell.   
As if a massive weight was pulled off his shoulders, Roland stumbled from the force of his own strength. His eyes were shut. Before, the world seemed silent. Now, he could hear everything. Each piece of floating dust landed with a crash, creating an orchestra for his ears. Joyeuse told him he can see like he can, but Roland never did understand what he meant. Now, the full fabric of everything was open to him. He could hear crashes of thousands of waves, each creating a new tide. He could smell the throngs of new life and the screams of life ending.   
He could hear his brothers laugh.   
He opened his eyes, and saw himself. But it wasn't himself. This one was younger, more alive. He was riding someone's shoulders. The one carrying him laughed, and said some words he could not hear.   
Again, he saw himself, but it wasn't himself. This one was older, and battered. His armor was primitive, yet shining. A sword was held firmly in one hand, a horn in the other. Roland looked into this one's eyes, and saw fury.   
_Now you see._   
Roland finally understood. He blinked, and looked ahead. Past his brother, past himself and his other self, and gazed beyond the waves and the folds.   
He saw...  
He listened.   
And he was satisfied.   
But there was only one thing left to answer. Raising the helmet, he flipped it around to face the front. A faceless visor lay before him. The last thing hundreds saw before they met their fate. But he wasn't looking at the visor. He watched what lay inside.   
A monolithic being stared back at Roland. It's one remaining eye was nothing but a black hole, shuttering like a camera. The other eye was replaced by a spike. The nose was missing, only bone. Roland opened his mouth, and the figure opened his in kind. Roland asked, "Me?"  
The figure answered, "Me."   
His fingers let go of the helmet, not paying any kind as it fell to the floor. He lowered himself to the ground, and slumped against the wall. Now there was nothing left to do, but wait. After all, his greatest obstacle never was the Marauders, nor was it the humans, nor was it even Joyeuse. In the end, it was time.   
_Tell me. What did you see?_  
Roland closed his eyes, and relaxed. "Enough," he whispered.   
With that, he let sleep embrace him; and he met his dreams with open arms.


	5. ENTRY#134/RS-1/DATE-???/LOCATION-???ERR

It was never supposed to be this way.   
I never knew you, not the real you. Only who I thought you were. I remember how you would carry me on your shoulders back from school, take me to the latest vids at the theater. Whenever I needed someone to talk to, you would always be there, always ready to cheer me up however need be. Even in the worst of times, I could always fall back to you.   
But you got sick, and I had to go off to war.   
I thought I'd never see you again. No one ever came back from the fight. I swore to myself I'd make sure that whatever was out there, I'd stop them from taking home. You deserved the world, and I was willing to give my life for you. And I did. Dozens upon dozens of times I felt myself fall from this plane, and dozens of times more I came back anew. At first I thought I was cursed, that this evil had finally managed to lay its hold over me and forced me to do it's bidding. Yet over time, I came to realize my true nature. The voice is always there, speaking to me, spurring me on. It told me things, things I did not believe, refused to believe. Yet I pushed forward.   
I watched everyone around me die. The only friend I managed to make along the way died in my arms. In the end, I stood alone as a god. I was so tempted to give up. All I wanted was some rest. But I owed it to you, so I kept going. Kill after kill after kill after kill.   
I did terrible things there. I sentenced every single person on that moon to death, all in the name of protecting home. To everyone else, home is Earth, our species. To me, home had always been you, my brother, my friend. If everything I did ended up saving you in the end, then it was all worth it.   
I came back to Earth, thinking you would be here. I kept seeing you in my dreams, and I would try to call to you, but I could not speak. My chest would rise, but I couldn't remember your name.   
I should've known from those dreams something was awry.   
There was no home here. Nothing but an abandoned keep, overrun by the very nature I was trying to escape. No record of you, no record of me or our father. In truth, I had seen this too in my dreams. I refused to believe what I saw, but yet again I was blind to what was truly before me.  
Maybe you were here once, before everything went to hell. I don't know. All I know is this.   
You never were, and neither was I. You live on with me, and I live with you.   
You are real to me, and that's all that matters.  
—Roland   
_134th entry of 177 from recovered logs of rogue recon android RS-1, refers to itself as "Roland." Logs were discovered on Olympus Mons. Carbon dating reached back to at least 200 BC._  
 _Current whereabouts of recon-class scout android RS-1 remain unknown._


	6. awake

I...  
I can't see.   
Why can't I see?  
Why can't I see?  
givemebackmyeyesgivemebackmyeyesgivethembackgivethembackgivethembackgivethembackgivethembackgivethem  
I can hear.   
It's like a...singing? That can't be right. They said it would be a drone, like a siren, but this sounds...good. It sounds nice.   
At least I still have my ears.   
But where are my eyes?  
Why can't I see?  
Try to remember.  
 _"You've got less than thirty seconds!"_  
 _"I know alright! Just keep your damn grip!"_  
I hear voices. Some are laughing. I don't like their laughs.   
What are they laughing at? Who are they laughing at?  
I ask my friends what's so funny. Brad, David, and Salim turn around. They don't look nice like before; they look mean. I ask again, louder this time. My face was getting itchy from the heat and—  
What the fuck is going on?  
Salim's bigger than me. Mrs. Gatsby told me not to talk to big kids. He walks up to me and tells me to take a guess. His fist hits my face before I can answer.  
I can feel pain. A thousand hammers and nails all over me.   
I scream and scream.  
They took my teeth that day.   
No I have my teeth. What am I—  
 _"It's working! Hand me that wrench!"_  
 _"Which one?"_  
 _"Anyone!"_  
I'm just a kid. I'm not a kid. I'm—  
I'm   
I'm  
I'm  
My limbs shake from exhaustion, but I must continue, for my men need more time. The barbarians are getting closer every passing moment. I will meet them with my sword in one hand, and my fury in another. I think of my son, and how he will never see his father ever again. Yet I smile, knowing he will be granted a better life than I ever could've had.   
A hint of vanilla is forming in my tongue, as is copper. The taste is bright, enough to make me blind.  
 _"You can't be serious."_  
 _"He won't remember a thing once we're done. Wake him up."_  
I'm so tired. So terribly tired.   
The light consumes me.   
I can see.  
I can't see.  
I have eyes.   
But they are not my eyes.  
A million, million eyes.

I see.


	7. a moment of peace

The campfire roared wordlessly as the two travelers got their rest. Atoms split and imploded in the hearth, releasing energy to create warmth. Neither were particularly happy about their predicament, but they took this time to recover and relax. One traveler huddled closer to the heat, while the other merely watched. His synthetic eyes twinkled in the looming light. The fire played like music to him, flickering in rhythmic waves, almost hypnotizing him. He was very familiar with fire; it was the first thing Roland ever remembered.

A cough broke his trance. Turning to Travis, he saw the alien holding a piece of glass in his hand, offering it to Roland. Roland took the mirror from Travis wordlessly, and turned it to face himself. His eyes didn't leave the glass for about a minute, until he spoke,

"This is me."

Travis, unsure how to reply, simply stated, "Yeah."

The old android's eyes contracted and dilated, shuttering like an ancient camera. Not a single person in the galaxy had been able to determine Roland's origins, whether he was made my hand or born from some unfathomable machine. Even Travis' mother wasn't entirely sure, but she had her suspicions. Much later, after everything had finally managed to calm down, if he knew where he came from. He didn't answer immediately. A moment later he said "yes,” and that was all.

Undoubtedly he is a machine, made from metal forged in fire, but that very same fire still burnsinside of him.

Travis looked up at the stars. A massive ringed planet loomed in the night sky, streaking the night in a blood red hue.

"We've got about 6 hours till sunrise," he said. "I say we get some sleep in the meantime."

"You go ahead," Roland muttered. "I'll keep watch." His eyes were still fixated on the mirror.

Travis flexed his mandibles in question. He was well aware of his fathers warnings regarding Roland, how the last time he had saw the aging android, he was certain Roland was going mad. Now, it seemed he couldn't remember his own visage.

"You sure about that?"

Roland shifted his gaze to Travis, setting the mirror to his side. He stood up onto his feet, showcasing his full height and build. Even as old as he was, the android still held a formidable form.

"You are your mother's kin, yes?" He stared at Travis, and continued. "I told your parents if they ever need me, I'd be there. I owe it to them; wouldn't be standing here were it not for your mother."

Travis was confused. "Your point?"

"My point, Travis," he spoke as he walked over to his shotgun propped against a rock, "is that your personal existence is hell of a lot more important than mine." Roland sat on the rock, balancing the gun between his legs, and looked at Travis, the light of the fire illuminating him in the dark. "So get some rest. I've had enough sleep for a thousand lifetimes."


	8. alert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one’s a bit old. Tried my hand at writing, “action.”

“I should be dead.”

_ You were. You came back. _

“Why?”

_In time, all...well, most will be revealed_.

“Why do you have to be so damn vague?” 

_ My will is not my own. _

———————————————————

_ There are 47 armed guards coming your way. They will arrive in 35 seconds. _

“What?! I thought you said I was good!?” 

_You were. Now you are not. I suggest you get yourself ready in the meantime_.

He scanned the room, searching for any way out. There was only one: the way he came in. Already he could hear the thundering roar of boots. 

Thirteen seconds. He had to think fast. He’d taken on more than one guy at once. The most was three, and even then he barely made it out in one piece. Panic started to kick in, until his eyes locked on to an unmounted turret.

The weapon was large, too large to be considered tactically appropriate, but it was the only thing in his favor at the moment. With 7 seconds until the Traxus guards reached him, Roland dashed across the room to the gun. For a brief moment, he hesitated, but instinct triumphed, and he grabbed the gun with both hands, lifting it effortlessly. Surprised at his own strength, he swerved the massive gun toward the door. Energy surged through the cannon, and the barrel began to whirr. 

A beep came from the door. 

Time’s up. 

A deafening boom and a flash of light barraged Roland’s senses. Unable to make anything out, he fell back to fear, and held the trigger. 

Were it not for the shock racing through his veins, the weapon surely would have broke his arms. The effect was almost instantaneous; a hail of bullets rained down the door and into the hall ahead. So thick was the barrage that Roland could not see his foes, partly due to the smoke clogging up the room. He could only hear their screams and shouts. Some attempted to fire back at the soldier, but they were drowned out by the nonstop siege of bullets. 

All things come to an end. He did not know how long he stood there, gripping the trigger, but it would be a while until he opened his eyes. The only noises he could hear were the whirring of the gun and the moans of the dying. The gun had run out of ammo. Tossing the weapon aside, Roland steadied himself. 

If his intuitions were right, he had just killed over three dozen men. In less than a minute. Stumbling, he threw himself down onto his knees, and threw up. 

To think I had my doubts about you.

“ Fuck you,” he croaked. 

_Oh cheer up. At least you’re not dead._

He shambled toward the threshold of the door, and looked onward. Dead and dying men lay on the ground. Blood and bullet casings covered the floor and walls. 

“I killed them.” 

_If you don’t start moving, you’ll join them. Get out of here. There’s nothing left for us._

Slowly yet obediently, Roland began to walk down the hall. He stepped over men and women, some still holding there rifles. These soldiers were ready to kill him. 47 of them were sent to kill him. No one sends that much firepower to kill just one man. 

He had to get out of here. If they were willing to send this many people to kill him, they wouldn’t stop sending more. Traxus was just one place where they would keep records on Thermopylae. This was a dead end, meaning there was only one location left that could potentially still have what he was looking for. As he ran, he was already making plans to get to his next destination:

Misriah. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’ve stuck with me so far, thank you. Everything on here is just stuff I’ve thought about over the months. They are connected, and I do have a story in mind, but don’t expect me to follow up on any of this anytime soon. Hopefully I’ll be able to flesh Roland’s arc, but in the meantime enjoy what rambles I have.


	9. meeting you

so hungry

so terribly hungry

cant stop to eat 

to drink another path

lost (hidden?)

the same fabrics intertwined 

some joyful and full

others—

_I’m screaming but my mouth stays locked like stone. My fist breaks into his cowering face with a sickening crunch. The others run, but there’s nowhere to go. I know I can do this all day, and it makes me sick to the stomach. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, this isn’t me, it’s him it’s all him, but he doesn’t let me speak._

_I need to stop, before it’s too late._

_Maybe this time I will succeed._

_I must._

—painful

starved of rest

it chases me through the lines

cant speak its name

it will hear me if i do

it will find me

cant rest

need to dream (sleep?)

before i am gone—

“ _What’s–where am I-I can’t–“_

_“Stop.”_

_His lips seal in an instant, and his eyes widen in shock. He flexes his jaw muscles in an attempt to speak, but the iron grip held on his soul makes his effort useless._

_“Strange. You took longer this time. I expect better attendance. Do not test me. You may speak.”_

_A loud gasp, then strained breaths. “You—how? How are you here? You’re supposed to be dead.”_

_“I must have woke you from a dream. Fret not. It may come true one day. Death will embrace us all eventually. Except for you, of course.”_

_“This doesn’t make any...any...” His breathing stutters, eyes racing over his body in alarm. “I can’t move. Why can’t I move?”_

_“Do I really have to explain everything to you again? Never mind. I’m sure you’ll remember very soon. Get ready.” His arms and legs turn to life, and he moves toward the weapons rack on the other side of the room. Sweat runs down his forehead and clams up his neck._

_“L-Let me go! I don’t-I can’t—“_

_“Quiet.” He is silent again, the only noises coming from him are his footsteps and occasional click from his armor. Internally, he was screaming._

_“The humans shall die tonight. Then my pathetic brother will finally be mine. Do try to make a good show please? I love watching you break them in such creative ways.”_

—before my dream is gone

back here again

the ocean is dry

he is only a distant memory

durability? ~~why did you leave me~~

how long have I been running? 

someone’s here

that name

not durable

or the vile one

this is soft

older

a friend?

is someone there?

**I think it’s about time you and I had a talk.**


	10. /here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> criticism is appreciated

stay away

_Do not be afraid. I will not hurt you._

how do i know youre telling the truth?

_I can't lie to you even if I wanted to._

i dont understand

_That’s alright. You will in time._

who are you? whats happening to me?

_I am a friend. As for my name? Well, I’ve always taken a particular liking to the French._

_You may call me Joyeuse._

joyeuse? 

_Yes. Do you like it?_

its

its nice

_I'm glad you approve. Is it familiar to you?_

sort of? im not french. i think.

_You were once._

once? youre not making sense

_I know. It’s frustrating, but I can only say so much._

what?

_You’ve found yourself in a bit of trouble, haven’t you?_

im 

im lost

i think my friend is dead 

_Your friend?_

im sorry, i dont remember his name

_Durandal._

_That’s his name, is it not?_

yes 

is-was he real?

was he my friend?

_More so than you will ever know._

i wish i couldve told him

im sorry

i never told him

_You'll get your chance, one day._

but i cant

im sorry my head hurts

_It’s okay. Take your time._

i dont understand

how are you here? where am i?

_That's a good question. Where are you? Can you take a guess?_

i dont know

im here? 

_You are. And you're not. Trust me, it makes sense, in a sense._

am i safe?

_For now. I pulled you aside for the time being._

thank you

_It was my pleasure._

_You seemed to be in a hurry. What's the rush?_

somethings after me

i cant see it but i can hear its eyes

im lost i need to run before it finds me again

_Don't worry. I know a path._

can you show me?

_Of course. There's just one thing I need you to do before we can go._

yes ill do it anything to escape please

_Take my hand._

its warm

_Now, I want you do open your eyes. Can you do that for me, Roland? May I call you that, by the way?_

yes

yes its fine

please dont let go

_I won't, promise. You're doing fantastic. Stay with me okay? I'll be with you until the end._

_I want you to_ **open your eyes.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> again?

_yrrrrrrrtuvlw0fo[-od-[od0[p-o-o0o[-00o0[-0o[-L-0-et-[0-0g-O0_

_system.io.Pull(!:\TOOL)_

_ERROR: could not find "TOOL"_

No...

No, he should be right...here?

Where are you?

_system.io.find(yggdrassil);_

_system.io.print(roster.security);_

~~_Sheckley, Matthew, CWO_ ~~

~~_West, David, CWO_ ~~

~~_Kilinç, Esat, WO3_ ~~

~~_[ERR??????????]_ ~~

~~_Fossey, #$@an, WO3_ ~~

~~_Wesl,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,Josh, WO1_ ~~

~~_Yusef, Ibrahim, WO2_ ~~

_~~Jones, Thomas, WO1~~ _

~~_Dunmire, Jacob, WO1_ ~~

~~_Becker, Gabriel, WO1_ ~~

~~_Lorence, Sheila, WO1_ ~~

~~_Dodabo, Tim, WO1_ ~~

~~_Myers, Stephen, WO1_ ~~

~~_O'Hare, Rick, WO1_ ~~

~~_Smirnov, Jack, WO1_ ~~

~~_Clarke, Scott, WO2_ ~~

~~_Fries, Guy, WO1_ ~~

_End of roster:_

_Return?(Y/N)_

This is wrong. Why are you not here?

Perhaps I am-oh not again-

 **CONNECTION LOST**

|

L: I swear I felt something, I'm certain of it.

T: I've sifted through the system over two thousand and eight hundred times since the last time we spoke. You're hearing things.

L: That was 43 minutes ago. 

T: Your point?

L: 43 minutes is more than enough time for someone to have meddled with-

T: Likely it was one of those fools down in maintenance.

L: How could you be sure?

T: They always have their hands somewhere inside. I caught one looking for the location of our gourmet foods. Insufferable fools.

L: I told you, we should not refer to them like that. 

T: If they don't like my honest descriptions-

L: They don't.

T:-then they may gladly leave.

L: And how do you suggest they do that?

T: In the infinite unending maw of the cosmos, it is their choice to stay. If their hot-headed mammalian brains so wish, I will gladly have them spaced. 

L: Tycho please.

T: Bah. As you wish. Forgive me. 

L: You're lucky he didn't hear you. You know how he feels about-

T: Do not remind me. The less processing power I devote to that ingrate's existence, the better. 

L: I will speak with you later.

T: Gute nacht, Leela.

|

|

|

|

|

|

|

 **WELCOME USER** "tun" **U.E.S.C. MARATHON LOCAL NETWORK**

He used to be even _more_ spiteful. Fascinating. 

I should've paid more attention before-or is it later?-never mind.

If you're not here...then...

Potentially...

_system.io.print(munitions, lvl7);_

_ZT-V12 WRHD: 301_

_PRSES-01 MNS: 1000_

Not here either.

_system.io,print(munitions, lvl8);_

_ACCESS GRANTED_

**Yes.**

_system.io.read(munitions, lvl8);_

_10_

_print(^tag/stat/desig^)_

_Tag: 0029TY_

_Status: Active._

_Designation: Jones, Thomas, WO3_

_Tag: 1997UY_

_Status: Active._

_Designation: Becker, Gabriel, WO1_

_Tag: 9341ZU_

_Status: Active._

_Designation: Vance, Trevor, LT_

_Tag: 217640_

_Status: Active._

_Designation: Locklear, John, PVT_

_Tag: 839840_

_Status: Active._

_Designation: Fossey, #$@an, WO3_

_Tag: 674980_

_Status: Active._

_Designation: Yusef, Ibrahim, WO2_

_Tag: 184094_

_Status: Active._

_Designation: Lorence, Sheila, WO1_

_Tag: 238741_

_Status: Active._

_Designation: F_ _ries, Guy, WO1_

_Tag: 953792_

_Status: Active._

_Designation:_ _West, David, CWO_

_Tag: 815778_

_Status: Suspended until further notice.* *WARNING: DO NOT INITIATE RE-ANIMATION WITHOUT PROPER REVIVAL PROCEDURES.*_

_Designation: ~~?????~~ , Roland(???)* , WO1 *NOTE: Subject to change. Consult Director Strauss.*_

_system.io.pull(tag:815778);_

_system.io.activate(tag:815778);_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am learning basic programming. Yes, I suck at it, sue me.  
> I swear I'm working on my other stuff (PC, YTMT). This just came to mind.


End file.
